End-game
by Archaeologist
Summary: Merlin believed the dragon when he spoke of destiny. That might have been a mistake.


**Warnings: **Post-Camlann, Major Character Death, Angst  
**Author's Notes: **I was thinking about Merlin as an anti-hero and why he'd listen to Kilgharrah so much.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

At first, Merlin didn't feel anything. In some distant realization, he knew there was blood soaking into his skin, an unrelenting wind shivering across his face; there were the sound of crows and of dying men all around him and a taste of death in the air. But he felt nothing. He was empty, numb to everything around him.

Sitting there, head bowed, looking down into the dead blue eyes of his king, Merlin didn't know what to do next. Already, Arthur's body was stiffening, had long since turned cold. Mordred's lethal thrust had been more than effective and Merlin hadn't been able to stop him in time. He'd tried, though, so very hard. But in the end, his magic wasn't enough.

Merlin's failures, the choices he'd made, cost Arthur his life.

In another lifetime, he supposed that he should try and rally the knights, see if he could pull off some miracle to turn the rout into victory and leave a legacy that Arthur would have been proud of.

But he couldn't think, didn't want to. Instead he sat there, letting his fingers slowly drift through soft golden hair.

It had all been for nothing. He'd tried to turn Arthur's fate into some glorious endgame that would have brought on a new shining age but with every twist and turn, with every decision, Merlin had only led them deeper into the abyss.

At least Morgana had not survived and Mordred, Mordred had staggered away, mortally wounded by Arthur's own hand.

And now he could only sit and try not to think about the grief hiding somewhere under his heart.

* * *

It was growing dark when the dragon arrived.

Leon, ever resourceful, had managed to keep some semblance of order and it wasn't defeat but Camelot would never regain what it once was. For that, they would have needed Arthur and Arthur was gone.

His body had long since been taken away - although not without a fight. Merlin hadn't wanted to let go because letting go would only mean that it was truly over, that Arthur was dead and never coming back. And he couldn't… he couldn't…. In the end, the other knights had pried his fingers away, murmuring some nonsense about funerals and Camelot and regrouping for tomorrow's attack.

When he couldn't be bothered to reply, just sat there feeling utter loss, they left him alone. Perhaps they knew how he felt, perhaps not. It wasn't as though he could bring himself to care.

At least Kilgharrah, his kin, would understand how empty he was. His destiny had come and gone. There was no golden-haired prat laughing with him now, no Arthur to poke and prod and mock. They had been two sides of the same coin and now that coin was smashed into dust.

And it was all his fault.

But as the dragon settled down next to him, instead of the expected soft words and sympathy, Kilgharrah was chuckling, his mouth gaping wide with satisfaction. Seemed to be laughing at Merlin's destruction.

"So it worked after all." Kilgharrah sounded almost triumphant.

For a moment, Merlin couldn't seem to wrap his head around what the dragon was saying. All nonsense words that echoed in his mind, mere noise to fill the empty spaces inside. "Arthur is dead and it's my fault. If I'd only chosen differently, Mordred wouldn't have turned and Arthur…." He buried his face in his hands. "What have I done?"

Above him, there was a rumble of amusement: deep, draconian, contemptuous. "Such a naïve child you are. So easily persuaded. Almost too easy."

It didn't make sense. Obviously, he was too full of pain to hear properly. It sounded almost as if Kilgharrah had… lied to him. Lifting his head, a thousand failures still strangling his throat, it took everything he could to say, "What?"

"The Pendragons are no more." The huge eyes gleamed in the growing darkness, bright with satisfaction. "And I have you to thank for it."

And in that numbness, there was a shiver of understanding, growing along with fury. "What?"

"Must I spell it out? For a human, you are incredibly blind to possibilities, to the costs and balances of revenge long planned." The dragon's words seemed to reverberate in Merlin's mind. He shook himself, trying to clear away the fog, trying to let himself see clearly. It couldn't be possible that he'd been tricked like that. Surely, Kilgharrah would not lie to him, not now, not then.

It couldn't be. "But you said I had a great destiny, that Arthur was the Once and Future King and that I…."

Laughter, long and loud, and he couldn't breathe with the sound of it. "Destiny is just a word, Merlin. Useful for pushing humans along in certain directions. You have magic enough and eventually you will become Emrys but now, now you are just a foolish child weeping for a broken toy."

For a moment, Merlin just sat there, blood-soaked and cold, the past, the choices Kilgharrah had pushed on him only now beginning to make some kind of sense. As he rose to his feet, slowly, as if moving too fast would have shattered him, he said, "And Arthur? You said, the Druids said that Arthur was…."

The huge grin grew wider, mocked him.

"Yes, the Once and Future King. I know. Do you not think I could have those prophesies twisted? I can see the future, more clearly than you, boy. And the Druids follow my lead. They, too, wanted the Pendragon line gone."

Merlin had thought nothing else could have hurt him, numb as he was, but Kilgharrah's words were like stones, battering him. "But you told me to kill Mordred, to kill Morgana in order to save Arthur."

Giving a nod full of mockery, the dragon said, "And you listened so well. It was your actions that drove them to Camelot's enemies, to Pendragon's enemies. Setting about the destruction of the very one you wanted to save at all costs. Such delicious irony."

"So if I hadn't listened to you, Arthur would still be alive?" It had been his fault after all. In his heart, he'd hoped it otherwise.

With a smug, self-satisfied smile, Kilgharrah said, "Of course. But I couldn't let that happen. The Pendragons had to die, all of them. No matter what the cost."

"I will kill you for this." As Merlin stepped back, out of the range of Kilgharrah's claws, his head was still full of noise but there was white heat there, too, a growing rage that threatened to split the world apart. "I will kill you!"

"Perhaps. But my death will not bring Pendragon back. And if it costs me my life, it was worth it."

With another sharp laugh, Kilgharrah dove into the air, flying away, leagues away in a blink of an eye.

Merlin just stood there. Broken.

All this time, he'd been played. He'd ignored his instincts, thinking Kilgharrah would know the future. And he had - twisting the pathways to suit his own ends. Morgana and Mordred turned, Arthur was… dead and all because the naïve boy from Ealdor had wanted so desperately to fit in, to have a destiny he could believe in.

He knew he'd had to destroy Kilgharrah; for this betrayal, there was only death.

But someday, when his heart began to beat again, he'd find a new path to forge, remake Arthur's legacy into the shining hope it should have been. And perhaps then, finally, he'd find peace.

The end


End file.
